Pampered by My Secret Husband-Chapter 109: Mission

"Young Master Shannon, this way, please." The manager bowed low, making a welcoming gesture.

Inside a luxurious yet tasteful VIP lounge.

A portly, greasy-faced middle-aged man stood up and scurried forward. As he moved, the fat on his shiny face quivered, and he offered a fawning smile. "Young Master Shannon, you’re here! Please, come in."

A slight smile touched Thomas Shannon’s lips as he strode with long legs to the sofa and sat down.

Sophie Sullivan stood at the doorway, her eyebrows tightly knitted. This was the "good merchandise" he mentioned? Was he sure he wasn’t toying with her?

Maxwell Sinclair had received a call early that morning. Young Master Shannon of Golden Wing Palace, the walking King of Hell, had business to discuss with him.

Everyone was scrambling, practically breaking down doors, to forge some connection with K Group. He never imagined he would be the one personally chosen!

Such an honor wasn’t something just anyone could receive.

"Young Master Shannon, your tea." Maxwell Sinclair bustled about, terrified of providing inadequate service and neglecting this esteemed guest.

Thomas Shannon stretched out his long legs.

His sharp, sculpted features held a touch of coldness.

His cold gaze, glinting with an icy light, fell upon Sophie Sullivan, who stood at the doorway like a door god. "Come here," he commanded, his voice low and deep, with an imperious authority that left no room for argument.

Only then did Maxwell Sinclair notice the woman standing at the door.

Upon seeing Sophie Sullivan’s face, Maxwell Sinclair was so startled the fat on his face quivered. It was greasy and unpleasantly shiny.

Sophie Sullivan touched her own face. She wasn’t wearing a mask... Perfect. She found him repulsive, and presumably, he felt the same way about her.

Sophie Sullivan, who had thought she might escape this ordeal, had overlooked one crucial detail: no one dared to defy Young Master Shannon’s orders. She might be an exception, but others certainly were not.

Thomas Shannon took out a cigarette and moved to light it. Maxwell Sinclair immediately bowed, holding out a lighter with both hands. "Young Master Shannon, allow me."

Thomas Shannon did not refuse. After exhaling a puff of smoke, he asked slowly and deliberately, "Do you know why I summoned you?"

Maxwell Sinclair rubbed his hands nervously. "Young Master Shannon, do you have a business opportunity for me?"

"Somewhat."

Hearing those words, Maxwell Sinclair was ecstatic, his fat cheeks bunching up as he beamed. "Thank you, Young Master Shannon! I am eternally grateful! I will strive to serve you to the best of my ability!"

"Aren’t you going to hear my request first?" Thomas Shannon asked, appearing elegant as he nonchalantly flicked the ash from his cigarette.

His gaze remained fixed on Sophie Sullivan’s face—a look filled with contempt, disdain, mockery, and an undercurrent of ruthlessness.

No one could provoke him repeatedly—not even this maniac.

Maxwell Sinclair practically bowed himself into a ninety-degree angle. "Young Master Shannon, just give the word! I would go through a mountain of knives and a sea of fire for you!"

Sophie Sullivan’s heart lurched.

A dreadful premonition surfaced within her.

This potbellied, big-eared man, so fawning towards Thomas Shannon, would definitely... not dare to defy him! What was she supposed to do? Compared to this greasy, potbellied man, she would much rather serve Thomas Shannon. At least his looks and physique were exceptional! But at this moment, begging for mercy was out of the question.

"You won’t need to go through any mountains of knives or seas of fire. All you have to do is..."

Maxwell Sinclair leaned in closer. "Young Master Shannon, what is it that I need to do?"

The man’s elegant index finger—long, with well-defined joints and fair skin—slowly, deliberately pointed towards Sophie Sullivan.

Maxwell Sinclair followed his finger. When his gaze landed on Sophie Sullivan, the fat on his face trembled again in fright.